Smoke and Mirrors
by LPBekka
Summary: Kurt Hummel is a young man, divorced, almost completly cut off from his kid with a life thats going down the drain but is it possible out of the worse experience in his life that hope will rise from the ashes in the form of Blaine Anderson? A/U
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** okies so this is a sort of…promo I suppose, it's a story idea that I love and I want to do and…well since BTHE can't last forever I was thinking of perhaps writing this when it was over. But I wanted to get your guys opinions of course :3 I wont take too much of your time, hope you enjoy xx

PS. Thank you to puppetmasterc on tumblr for helping me come up with both the fic name and a name for Kurt's kid 3333

**D/C:** not true so don't sue. I don't own any characters from Glee, they all belong to Ryan Murhy.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"You're a bad father, you always were and you always will be!"

Kurt could see it so clearly. Rachel, his wife, the papers in her hands and she was standing by the black marble kitchen counter, glaring in the older man's direction. Kurt was confused. He had just come back from working for his uncle. He was twenty one, tall and lanky with ruffled brown hair, pale, alabaster skin and an almost gaunt completion. The young man looked nothing like himself five years ago, fresh faced with eyes full of wonder, ready to show the world what he was made of. Now he just looked worn out and overworked.

He was looking to his wife of three years who had turned around to see the four year old boy poke his head around the chipped, white kitchen door.

"Go to BED GABE!" Rachel called to the youngster, each word getting louder and even Kurt flinched. Gabriel's large, doe like, cyan eyes widened.

"But I want Daddy to…"

"Daddy has to go, baby…" The woman said, her voice menacingly high. Kurt was silent, confused. He still had a cheque in his hand that he had gotten earlier, his weeks pay; he had planned to give it to his wife like he did every Saturday evening.

He wore a gray t-shirt and some cargo pants, again, nothing like the fashionable clothes he had once donned in high school. The brunet worked on his uncle's building sight, a job he didn't want, but he wanted to pay for his wife and child. He smelt of cigarettes, which he smoked outside because Rachel didn't allow him to smoke them in the house. It was a habit he had picked up last year when all this fighting began.

Gabriel started to cry and Rachel told him to go back to bed. The father wanted to insist the child stay, but he couldn't let his son see them fighting.

"Go to bed, Gabriel…" He said gently, forcing a smile despite wanting to burst into tears and angry screams. Gabriel's teary eyes looked to his father's identical hues. "I promised I'll be right there to read you your bedtime story." Slowly the young boy walked away, his toy fire truck under his arm.

He looked so like his father with his cropped brown hair and soft skin, he also had Kurt's watery blue eyes. The child looked so adorable in the blue transformers pyjamas, which he had gotten for his birthday. His father had bought him that behind Rachel's back because the woman thought Transformers was too violent for a four year old, but she couldn't say no when he saw it. However Kurt had been sleeping on the couch for three days afterwards. It was worth it to see his son smile.

When the door was closed Kurt walked over, hearing his son trudge up the stairs and he turned to Rachel. She had her hands on her hips and was glaring at him. He sighed tiredly, maybe she was PMSing.

"What's this all about Rachel?" He asked in a tired tone and the young woman glared at him, hands on her hips. They had been arguing a lot lately, but he never saw her this mad and he was worried by the papers in her hand.

"What's this all about? Kurt, I'm so sick of you." She growled, not budging, not moving an inch. She just glared his way. "You're always working or…doing shit. You're never here with your family, you never care…." Kurt suddenly felt disgusted. How dare she claim he was never here. He had given up all signs of a social life for them. He worked to keep their livelihood and spent all other time at home with his family.

"Of course I care." He defended. "I work to feed you and Gabe because I love you both….I…I can't help that it's long hours, but you don't have a job Rachel and we need to support our child." Rachel looked dangerous.

"Oh so it's my fault, is it?" She asked in a demented manner. "My fault? That's about thing about you, Kurt; you turn everything around onto who? Me, that's who, and I'm sick of you dodging responsibility." The whirlwind of accusations was so bewildering that Kurt's head started to hurt.

He worked to feed them, he was always home for Gabriel's bedtime story and he spent every single Sunday with his wife and child. He did nothing but love and support them.

"Where do you get off calling me a bad father?" He asked in a serious, hushed tone. Unlike Rachel and her hysterical raving, he didn't want Gabriel to hear, didn't want him to know they were arguing again. Rachel took a deep breath and just shivered from the obvious anger she had been experiencing.

"You're never here!"

"I'm here to read him his bedtime stories." Kurt defended in a weak, pleading voice. "I-I'm there when you can't pick him up from kindergarten, I get off work to bring him to the doctors or dentist…I was the one who brought him to his friend Stephanie's birthday party…when I had food poisoning I still managed to mind our child all day so you could go shopping…with the money I've been saving...for US. All three of us."

Rachel shook her head, not listening. She was being stubborn, she didn't care if he had done all these things, in her mind he was a bad father…because she said so.

There was no "I'm sorry Kurt" or "this is the way it has to be" there was just the light thump of the papers on the marble counter top and Rachel saying sternly. "I want a divorce…" Kurt was frozen and he looked to her face. No tears, no remorse, just...hate. Pure and strong. "My mother was right, we married too young. We were never in love…"

Kurt sighed. She was right. He loved Gabriel, not Rachel. The only reason he stayed with her was for his child's sake.

It took a long few moments of silence and finally he gripped the pen she was now offering him.

"Fine." He said, quietly and disheartened. He managed to scribble out half his name in the black pen before Rachel spoke again.

"This was all a mistake…the marriage…Gabriel." Kurt stopped and looked to his wife, a death glare in his now almost stony grey eyes.

"Call me a mistake…" He hissed. "Call me any name you can fucking think of, but don't you dare say a single goddamn word about my son." Kurt pulled back and stabbed the page with the pen, continuing his name. "How dare you call me a bad father when you have the crudeness to say something as disgusting as that."

-.-.-.-.-.-

That was two years ago. Kurt had lost his savings which he scrimped for, lost his home which he paid for, lost his wife whom he had lost respect for and worst of all he lost the privilege of seeing his son every day, reading to him every night, hugging him every moment he could, playing with him every sunny day…

Kurt got to see Gabriel every other weekend. The young brunet was now twenty three and his divorce had only been finalized since a few months ago. Two years ago, he left his ex-wife's house after he insisted on reading Gabriel a bed time story. While there he explained that daddy was going to find somewhere else to stay, somewhere where they could have guy time without mommy interrupting them. While Gabriel clung to him, sobbing, asking him not to go, he sat with teary eyes and felt his heart break, telling him it would be okay. That memory still haunted him to this day.

Now Kurt lived in a large apartment block. He lived in a flat with one bedroom, one bathroom and another room which was a kitchen opening onto a living room.

Kurt hated this place, he hated this side of LA, he hated the dodgy neighbors he had and he hated that every second weekend that he had to bring Gabriel to a place where he wasn't safe. Although he unfortunately lost full custody of his son, he still cared more about him than anyone else in the entire world.

The day he lost Gabriel forever was the single, worst day of his life. Seeing his son being driven away in his ex-wife's car, crying for his daddy, a fragile kid of five years old had been heart shattering. He was Kurt's son. He looked like Kurt, sounded like him and acted like him with his incredible passion and stubbornness. Even when he pouted he looked so like his father.

Kurt was standing by the window of his living room, elbow on the windowsill as he smoked a cigarette. He made sure that he leaned out, blowing the smoke into the polluted LA air rather than causing his son to suffer. As Kurt smoked, the door of his own room, where Gabriel slept with him, opened and he looked back to see his son, six years old and still in a Transformers pyjama, newer of course, bigger as he had grown quite a bit as he turned six years old. He held a fire truck under his arm and a storybook in his other hand.

"Can you read me a story, daddy?" He asked quietly and Kurt smiled, nodding as he just let go of his cigarette and leaned back, waving the smoke away and closing the window. Gabriel had a big smile on his face and he jogged back into the bedroom. Kurt smiled as his son hopped onto his bed, snuggling beneath the large duvet and Kurt sat beside him, wrapping one arm around his little boy and asking him what story he wanted to read. Gabriel picked Hansel and Gretel, and Kurt happily read until his little boy fell asleep.

"So the big, bad witch put on a big fire and watched the greedy boy and girl gobble up all the treats she had made. Cakes, tarts, gingerbread, chocolate, marshmallows and all kinds of wonderful sweets to make them big and fat. She watched over the fire, making it nice and big so she could put her big pot on it and cook Hansel and Gretel, who didn't know that the big fire was for them…" Kurt looked from the book to his son who was fast asleep, leaning onto his father, who smiled and kissed his forehead, the short strands of brown hair tickling his nose.

"Good night, my little Bumblebee." He smiled, in reference to his son's favourite Autobot. Kurt took off his shirt, laying it in the laundry basket and went to have a shower, hopefully washing away the smell of the cigarettes. He didn't want Gabriel to wake up due to the stench.

When Kurt was showered he changed into a blue, pinstriped pyjama bottoms and looked to the boxes filling up his living room. Christmas decorations. This would be the first year since the split that Kurt got to keep Gabriel over for Christmas and he was so excited. In the two years, Kurt, unlike his ex, hadn't even looked to another woman or slept with anyone. It had been two years since he slept with someone, much longer since he enjoyed sleeping with someone and it didn't matter to him. Gabriel was more important than any woman in his life. There was of course..other reasons why the young man didn't sleep with any woman but even now at twenty-three years of age he wasn't ready to admit that to even himself.

His ex however was, apparently, bringing new men home every night; and Kurt wasn't impressed, but as she reminded him even with him being Gabriel's father he couldn't control her social life.

Kurt had been alone for the last two Christmases but not this year. He was possibly more excited than his son who was thrilled to be spending the holidays with his daddy. He had tons of toys bought even though he didn't make that much money wise but he wanted it to be special. They had the tree up, they had baked some cookies (most of which turned out burnt), put on some Christmas music and decorated the tree. Gabriel had school tomorrow so Kurt would wake him up, pack some cookies in with his lunch and drive him to school only for Rachel to pick him up afterwards. It would be another two and a half weeks until Kurt would see his boy again, but he got him for the entire week of Christmas and he couldn't be any happier.

Kurt walked into his bedroom and curled up beside his son. He smiled and kissed the young boy's forehead before closing his eyes, trying to get to sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Gabriel woke at 5:32AM. It was still dark outside and he was coughing. He felt warm but not like a fever warm, more like when he sat on front of the fire too warm. The boy couldn't catch his breath. He could smell smoke and hear something, crackling, again, like the fire, but his daddy's apartment didn't have a fire, not a real one. He was confused and couldn't really see his father because of the black clouds of smoke around him.

This smoke was strange. It wasn't like when he accidentally caught his daddy smoking. It was thick smog, it choked him and made him feel sleepy. Faintly, Gabriel could hear people screaming outside his daddy's flat. He was scared. He could feel his father's bare chest and he shook him.

"Daddy…" He coughed loudly, hoarsely. "Daddy, daddy wake up, please!" As well as coughing, Gabriel began to cry and shiver, screaming as his father's eyes didn't open, he just laid there. The six year olds fragile mind was overwhelmed by the image and his heart began to beat faster as he cried out to his father. "DADDY HELP ME!"

This woke Kurt immediately, although his mind was groggy having inhaled the growing smoke around him for the last fifteen minutes or more. He thought Gabriel had a bad dream and was about to insist he go back to sleep. But then he smelt smoke and he heard his son scream again. It was hot, too hot, he was sweating and with a single breath he burst into a coughing fit. The young brunet panicked and sat up in his place, one hand pushed against the soft fabric of the bed clothes. The room was just smoggy but he knew what it meant. The apartment block was on fire.

Kurt's first instinct was to save his son. He didn't get the boys shoes or socks, he himself didn't pull on a jumper, he just grabbed his child, scared and terrified something would happen to his little man. Gabriel instantly clung to him, his dainty hands balling into fists around his fathers bare neck. He was shaking, crying as the screams grew louder. His father hadn't said anything, didn't calm him and tell him everything was okay and that scared him more. He could sense the urgency. There was no time to calm the young boy.

Kurt carried Gabriel out of his flat, managing to somehow kick his own door down with surprising strength as he refused to take his hands off of the boy in his arms. The man staggered slightly as he burst into the hall, a panic in his heart. People from upper floors and homes on this level were trying to rush out, hitting against the father and his son who was staring with wide eyed at the fire fighters running passed them in the opposite direction trying to encourage people to not panic. Kurt wanted to protect Gabriel more than anything else and although common sense told him to listen to the fire fighters he couldn't stop as he pushed passed people and rushed for the stairs, hearing his neighbours screaming and the fire-fighters calling to them all, telling them once more not to panic.

Kurt clung to Gabriel, holding the younger male to his chest as he felt countless bodies push against him, causing him to stumble and stagger as he rushed down the countless stairs. There were flames around them once they reached the last step and Gabriel let out a small cry when a flame licked against his leg. It didn't touch him enough to even singe his trousers but the fright caused the boy to break into sobs and bury his face against his father's neck. On the second level a piece of the ceiling above them caved in and once more Gabriel screamed at the sound as the light debris that fell on him, not heavy enough to hurt but enough to feel. Kurt dodged it, just wishing his son to be okay, he didn't care if he was injured, he just needed to get Gabe out of here.

Panicking people pushed past the brunet and his child. On the first floor Kurt saw the fire-fighters trying to get people out, trying to calm them. It didn't work. Kurt cried out as he felt someone run into him, the person lugging their TV of all items with them as they ran from the fire. The force of the push caused him to fall. Gabriel fell with him and as Kurt tried to cling to his son he felt someone pull him up. A fire-fighter. The moment this happened his heart stopped.

Gabriel wasn't in his arms.

Kurt screamed and stretched out for Gabriel whom he could just make out between the people. The boy was curled up, peeking out between his arms to see his father, screaming for him and Kurt in turn was crying as the fire fighter pulled him away, trying to get him out. He had tears running down his eyes. Gabriel, his son, he was in reach. He tried to pull away, tried to get him but the male was too strong to get away from. People stood over Gabriel and within seconds he disappeared from Kurt' sight. Why was no one helping his son?

"LET GO OF ME!" He screamed loudly. "LET GO, MY SON. MY BABY BOY! LET ME GO, SOMEONE, SOMEONE SAVE MY SON!" No one was listening. The smoke, the fire, it was all too much. Where was Gabriel? Where was his boy?

Kurt was coughing and gasping as they dragged him out of the large building. The flats were an inferno. Fire raging and engulfing the structure and black smoke plummeting into the crimson morning sky. Kurt didn't care. There was someone trying to bring him to one of the ambulances, but he fought, tooth and nail, needing to get back into his child, needed Gabriel in his arms, safe.

"MY SON IS IN THERE!" He screamed as one of the firemen stopped him. The other man had his helmet on and was telling Kurt that he wasn't allowed in. Kurt had tears falling from his eyes and he refused help from paramedics.

A loud groan was heard and a sound rose above the screams as the building began to collapse on front of everyone's eyes. Slowly at first with just the outside structure caving in but within the space of no more than ten seconds it came crumbling to the ground.

Kurt's eyes widened as he watched the building begin to collapse. In front of his tear-filled eyes, the structure came down, falling to the ground and Kurt fell to his knees, sobbing, screaming his son's name loudly into the sounds of sirens and screams. Some victims were severely burned and in pain, screaming in agony, but that was nothing compared to the pain in Kurt's heart. The fire fighters were busy putting out the inferno, water spraying the last of the flames, but Kurt had only eyes for the dust from the building rise into the air and the crumbled structure.

"Gabriel!" He tried to scream, tried to move, to do something but he couldn't. His voice came out pitiful and hoarse; his body felt like it was weighed down as he gazed to the crushed building. His son…his gorgeous, beautiful son….

Somehow, in his despair, behind the veil of tears he managed to notice one form rise out of the rubble and ashes. He would never be sure why the fire fighter captured the brunet's attention. His helmet was up and he held something in his arms as he rose out of the ashes like a phoenix, miraculous and powerful. It was somewhat beautiful, like a scene from a movie although the young man couldn't appreciate that at this moment. The masked man staggered, holding something to his chest as if it was his lifeline, as if this thing in his grasp was the most precious thing in the world and he had to protect it.

As he walked away from the dust and rubble, coming into full view Kurt saw what he was holding. A small body covered in a fire blanket, about the size of his son. The boy was laying in his arms, face urned to the chest of the man holding him. Kurt gazed with wide eyes, seeing the dark blue pyjama's leg sticking out from underneath the protective cloth. The Autobot's symbol plastered all over the trousers. Gabriel, it had to be.

"GABRIEL!" Kurt screamed, pushing passed the men who tried to hold him back and running to the fireman. Gabriel very slowly and with a lot of effort managed to lean away from the male, coughing, soot covering his face. He looked so small and fragile, his blue eyes tear filled and there was rivers of wetness streaming down his soot covered cheeks.

"Daddy.." He tried to yell, voice cracking as his arms stretching out. Kurt rushed to his son and didn't hesitate in taking the boy from the hero, holding him to his chest as he fell to his knees, sobbing. He pulled the boy close, feeling Gabriel weakly shiver and clinging to him in return. His father was apologizing again and again and again. Both were crying desperately, Kurt unable to be strong right now as relief flooded his body his hands were touching the boys hair, his back, feeling it raise and fall with every breath. He was alive.

The fire fighter was still standing over them and Kurt was still sobbing as he looked up to the male, thanking him through his tears. The fireman didn't speak, but helped the brunet to his feet by touching his arm. Kurt didn't let go of Gabriel as he was ushered away from the scene.

The twenty-three year old held his boy to his body, feeling Gabriel cough and splutter, but that didn't matter in this moment, he was alive, he was really alive.

"You need to get him in an ambulance.." The fire fighter said, taking off his helmet. The young man beneath the helmet was vaguely Eurasian looking with black, curling hair and dark eyes. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes twinkled, the satisfaction of saving a life evident on his face even if he did appear very serious right now. The young male had been inside, ushering people away and he saw the brunet fall, saw the child go down and heard the father's screams. He had made a point to save the child, he was too young to die, he couldn't leave him but then the fucking building began to fall around them. Thankfully however they were both safe.

"Daddy, I want to stay with you…" Gabriel cried, clinging to his father and Kurt promised he'd be with him in the ambulance, but the young boy still cried, clinging to his father, crying and coughing simultaneously.

"Hey…" The stranger knelt down to the little boy's height, stroking his hair as Kurt still held him close. "Do you like fire trucks?" Gabriel nodded furiously, tears in his eyes. Kurt was amazed how calmly his son's saviour was speaking, despite the noise and bustle around them, the panic and painful screams. "If you go with your daddy to the doctors, I'll tell him to take you to the fire station when you're better and you just ask for Blaine and I'll show you around ok?"

Despite being obviously sick, Gabriel's eyes lit up and he nodded, tears still rolling along his. Kurt looked to the other man, deep, satisfied hazel meeting tearful cyan eyes. They stared at one another for a long few moments.

"Thank you…" Kurt said, his voice filled with honest gratitude. He was still holding his son firmly to his chest as he carried Gabriel to an ambulance. The paramedics took him and he cried for his father who climbed in and sat beside him as he lay on the stretcher. Gabriel coughed and clung with one hand to his father's trousers. Kurt took a moment to notice the burns on his skin where the fire licked him. He noted the way he was coughing horribly, he also paid attention to how Gabriel was covered in bruises and soot and how his son almost died. He had failed his child, and his ex's words echoed in his head.

"_You're a bad father, you always were and you always will be!"_

-.-.-.-.-.-

**A/N:** to anyone who read thank you :*


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Since Haute Couture and BTHE are so close to an end I thought I'd update this :) Hopefully there will be more frequent updates on this, I'll try be faster, I'm still making this up as I go xD This chapter is quite angsty but I really love it and I hope you guys do too xxx

Thanks to PuppetMasterC for her help editing :) love ya sweetie xxx

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Your son's going to be just fine." 

The words hadn't connected with Kurt's brain yet. He had spent the entire trip in the ambulance, refusing to be looked at by paramedics and insisted they treat his son first. Why were they caring for him when Gabriel needed help? They should be giving all their attention to his boy. 

They were now, at least. Gabriel was in their care, but Kurt wasn't happy with the way they poked and prodded his son. It was all for the sake of caring for him, though, treating him for smoke inhalation and severe burns, so he had to accept it. Kurt had burns and even with his protests the doctors had managed to check them out. It was nothing too severe, but they said he was lucky to get out of the blaze.

Lucky? Ha. He wasn't lucky, and he didn't get out. He was dragged out and away from his son by those idiotic firemen. Well, most of the firemen were idiots. There was that one…Blaine? Kurt would have to take Gabriel to the fire station after all this. He'd have to shake the hand of the man who saved his son. He'd have to thank him directly. But how do you thank such a hero? How could he possibly say thank you for doing the job he neglected to do…saving his child?

Kurt was in an incredibly self-pitying mood and he hated it, but it was a way to block out the fear he still felt for his son. He wasn't allowed near him and that killed Kurt. It took what felt like forever until the doctors finished checking over Gabe. Finally, Kurt was allowed see the little boy that was whimpering for him. Kurt sat beside his son and stroked his hair as he himself began to cry. Gabriel looked tiredly to his father.

"Daddy, don't cry," he pleaded, pouting when he saw the fat tears fall from his father's eyes. Kurt forced a smile and sniffled, rubbing the tears from his eyes as he leaned into his little boy, hugging him close.

"I'm sorry, buddy," he whispered, leaning in and kissing his son's forehead. Gabriel was weak and tired so he just clung to his father.

"I was scared daddy," Gabriel told him, fisting the gown Kurt was given to replace his torn and burnt clothes, "but…I thought…I thought I was going to see Buster again."

Kurt bit his lip. Buster was Gabriel's pet rabbit. Kurt had bought him the pet, even when Rachel said no, but he died three years ago. Kurt felt more tears prickle in his eyes and he held his son even closer. 

"I'm so sorry."

"Can we go back," Gabriel said before he burst into a sudden fit of coughing. Kurt looked to his son, stroking his back and he bit his lip.

"G-go back?" 

"To see the fireman," Gabriel asked gently, coughing still. He didn't look well. "You said you'd bring me." Yet again Kurt remembered Blaine and he looked to Gabriel who looked like if his father said no he would cry. A small, husky laugh escaped Kurt, and he rubbed away some tears.

"Yeah, buddy, we can go see him."

"No, you cannot," a shrill voice rang out, and Kurt was wrenched away from his son by a woman he had forgotten all about. Rachel was holding onto Gabriel, crying and sobbing loudly. Considering this woman had called their child a mistake numerous times, Kurt found it incredibly hypocritical that she had the nerve to sob and cry all over him, but Kurt wouldn't comment. 

For the moment, he was distracted by the hunk of man candy following his ex. The young man was more than six foot tall with pale china flesh, deep green eyes, and sandy hair. His name was Owen and he was from Ireland. Kurt had never met the man and Rachel never mentioned him; the only reason he knew who this man was because of Gabriel.

Kurt was busy glaring at this Owen. Apparently he had been around for a mere four months and already Rachel was telling Gabriel he could call Owen daddy, but the little boy refused. A fact that Kurt was secretly proud of.

"How the fuck could you do this?" A voice distracted him and Kurt turned around, looking to Rachel. 

"Would you mind not cursing on front of my son," he hissed but Rachel glared at him.

"You're one to fucking give me parental advice," she snapped loudly, pulling a now crying Gabriel to her chest. "You left him in the building." 

"I didn't leave him," Kurt defended loudly, not even wondering how Rachel knew the intimate details of what happened. Gabriel was sobbing now, quietly begging them not to fight. "Rachel, please…" 

"Don't you 'Rachel, please' me." Gabriel began to cry for his father, stretching his rather dainty hand out for him.

"This is upsetting Gabriel." Rachel wound her arms around the boy and glared at the father.

"GET OUT," She screamed menacingly at the brunette who was about to protest, but he felt a large hand on his shoulder. Owen. 

"Who do you think you are," he hissed to the other man, "You've been in his life for what? Four months? You have no right to…" 

"Kurt, just go," Rachel stated in a menacingly high voice and she didn't care to think about Gabriel who was sobbing, asking for his daddy. He didn't want his mom or her boyfriend, he wanted his daddy.

Kurt wished that just once in his life he had the spine to stand up for what he believed in, but he just couldn't. He just walked away, tears in his eyes as his son screamed and coughed for his daddy.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Over an hour's drive away, Blaine Anderson was working with his colleagues to root through the residue of the crumbled building. So far they had found five bodies; one was a small child of about two years old, which was unbearably heartbreaking.

Camera crews were loitering around, and Blaine had stopped for a moment. It had been minutes after they discovered the child's body; this always affected him greatly so a break seemed in order for a few moments. Some of the guys kept calling him hero. Some camera crews caught him rescuing that small child from the building in the early hours of the morning and the father running to him. They claimed he'd get a medal, some kind of heroic achievement, but that didn't matter. It wasn't why he became a fire fighter. He became one because, for as long as he could remember, Blaine admired the fire service—the unsung heroes of society—at least, to him they were. 

Blaine was just getting a drink, calming his shivering hands when he noticed someone lingering close to the tape that separated people from the wrecked site. There were a lot of people interested in watching. Some even tried to get in only to be hauled back out from the area, but this person caught Blaine's eyes. He was familiar, roughly five foot eleven with messy brunette hair, and tired eyes. The clothes he wore were far, far too large, as if not his own. Blaine saw the brunette staring at him, not even blinking, and he couldn't help but walk over. 

"Save anyone else," Kurt simply asked tiredly and Blaine cringed, recalling the child. Kurt realized that probably meant no and he leaned in closer to the barrier that was separating them. "I will never be able to thank you enough… 

"I've found someone else." Someone called out and Blaine looked back and then towards Kurt. 

"It's ok, just saying thank you is enough," he said with a small smile and then went running towards the familiar voice of his best friend, Wes Montgomery. Wes was in the service, as well as being a fire fighter. He had come home from serving in the army less than a year ago to spend time with his wife and baby girl. Still, it was hard to adjust to normal life so he joined the fire service. Blaine was more than happy to welcome Wesley, and they had since become close friends. 

Wes needed help pushing some rubble off a body and Blaine rushed to help him. As bad as the child had been, there was something that hurt so much more by the person they just uncovered. The helmet of the fire fighter was still down over his face, and his clothes were singed, even burned off at some parts. He laid listless, face hidden but he was most definitely dead. Blaine felt tears prickle his eyes; it was always so horrific to find one of their own dead. 

"He wasn't supposed to be working," Wes sighed, pulling up the helmet to reveal Emmet Delamare, a friend to both of them. Blaine looked on sadly, and helped his friend remove his body.

"It…it was a bad fire," Blaine told his friend, as if looking for a reason. "W-we needed all the help we could get…" More of the fire fighters were standing around, paying their own respects to the young man.

Wes leaned into Blaine. "Who's going to tell Amelia," he asked in reference to the young man's wife. "She's pregnant, Blaine." 

"I'll do it," Blaine whispered, closing his eyes and taking a number of deep breaths. He had his helmet off and he held it to his chest in silent respect for the man they had lost while hundreds of onlookers and camera crews watched.

-.-.-.-.-.-

It was much later that day when Blaine decided to use his time off to tell Amelia the news. This was going to be hard. As far as he knew, she was six months pregnant. Heavily pregnant as he discovered when she opened the door. She had an incredibly large bump for a woman so small. Emmet was over six feet tall, but his wife was five foot one inch. She was a very beautiful woman with long blonde hair and a pretty, youthful face. 

"Blaine," she smiled warmly, moving back to let him in, "do come in. I'm afraid the house is a mess—it's hard to clean with a bump this size." At first Blaine tried to get out of going inside, but he couldn't really say no so he walked in.

"You look radiant, Milly," he said to the young woman, bending in and kissing her cheek and she blushed, smiling. 

"Let me get you some tea," she said, walking into the kitchen and puttering around, getting something hot for him to drink. Blaine was still in his fire-fighter outfit, his helmet under his arm, soot on his face and he struggled to find the words. 

"Amelia…"

"Do you know what Emmet wants to call the baby if it's a boy?" She said, smiling and putting on the kettle. She turned around, her hand on her stomach. "Blaine, he said—you've always been there for him—he wanted to tell you himself, ask you, I guess, but I've never been very good at keeping secrets." Blaine closed his eyes, heart hammering. He hadn't been there for Emmet today. He should have watched out for his friends as well as the victims.

"Milly…" She began to babble, voice breaking every few words as she worked with shivering hands to get him something to drink. "Milly, I have to tell you something…."

"I know." She said, rubbing some tears from her eyes, but she didn't sob. Didn't do anything, but some tears away and asked him if he wanted sugar. Blaine refused and she chuckled.

"You're sweet enough." She told him and he went to speak again, but she turned around and gazed with wide blue eyes. "I know exactly what you are going to say, Blaine, and…and if you wouldn't mind…I'd just like to…pretend…please…"

Blaine was a man who always valued honesty, so the act of pretending this woman's husband was not dead confused him, but he said nothing and took the tea from her. Milly was smiling again, a little too broadly, but he didn't comment. Maybe she just needed to pretend for a while, for her sanity, or something along those lines.

Blaine drank the tea and told Milly how beautiful she looked. She smiled and thanked him, told him how sweet he was and finally it was time for him to go. She stood by the door with him for a long few minutes with her arms rested on her stomach.

"I was thinking…of maybe naming him Emmet instead," she said as Blaine walked down the steps of the home. Blaine looked over his shoulder, offering her a smile.

"It's a wonderful choice." He told her, not really wanting to leave the woman so he turned fully around. "Milly, maybe you should go to a family member's home." The woman shrugged, her hands wrapped around her belly but she said nothing for a long few moments.

"I'll be ok, Blaine." She told him and Blaine licked his lips before his top teeth grazed his lower lip.

"Ok," he replied, walking away, feeling the guilt eat him up inside. He hadn't said the words to the woman but somehow he had still managed to let her know that her husband was dead. It had broken his heart because he felt he should have watched out for him. What was the worst, though, was Amelia's reaction. She didn't scream and cry. No, she made him some hot tea and informed him of the change in the baby's name.

Blaine was walking down the path from the home and closed the newly painted gate when Milly closed the door. He sighed, staring at the neat house for some seconds and began to walk along the street when a silver car pulled up beside him.

"Hop in." Wes Montgomery called to his best friend when the window rolled down and Blaine crawled into the black leather passenger seat. Wes began to drive, nowhere in particular, but Blaine never told him he was going the wrong way. Was there a wrong way to nowhere? "You're a strong man, Blaine," Wes mused, swearing under his breath when he didn't make a green light. The curly haired male had his head against the window and was staring outside.

"She was so sweet about it," he said quietly, his breath fogging up the cool pane of glass with every exhale. "Offered me some tea. Told me that Emmet wanted to name the child after me…because I was there for him."

"Blaine, don't beat yourself up about it," Wes advised and Blaine pulled away from the window, turning around to face his friend.

"Where was I for him today, huh," he asked, his voice cracking and tears prickling his eyes. "Imagine it, Wes…if I was to have to go see Edith and Vanes…"

"Don't bring my family into this, Blaine," Wes snapped. He was unwilling to think about the possibility of his girls alone, of them by themselves, of himself not there to protect the two people he loved the most in the world. "Just…don't." Blaine bit his lip and looked to his helmet on his lap.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, brushing foolish tears away. "I just…I've never had to do that before." Wes nodded, finally able to drive again when the light turned green. They didn't talk for a few minutes but then Wes sighed.

"And hopefully, you will never have to do it again," The driver replied to his best friend, driving along familiar streets. "Ok, so when was the last time you sat down for a real meal with real people and not a take-out with Dr. Phil?" Blaine snorted a laugh, and looked to his friend.

"I don't watch Dr. Phil," He smirked. Wes rolled his eyes, driving them towards a nice estate. There were kids out playing on the green, well kept lawns, parents with coffee, chatting across garden fences, and dogs running around after Frisbees. It was a real family neighborhood—like something out of a sitcom.

"You're having dinner at my place," Wes said as they pulled up to his house. It was obvious this was what he was offering, especially after they drove into the estate and Blaine smiled. "Vanessa is missing her god-father." Blaine thought of the three year old bundle of joy. He had pretty much fallen in love with the young girl and her bouncy black hair, large doe eyes and chubby, kissable cheeks at first sight.

Blaine smiled and they pulled into the driveway when a woman who had been gardening stood up, and Vanessa hopped down from her swing.

"Daddy's home," she cried out excitedly as Wes stood out and ran to his daughter. He picked her up and spun her around causing her to call piercingly out, giggling shrilly. Wes laughed and held his daughter to his chest as Edith stood up and kissed her husband's lips, welcoming him home. Blaine walked over as Vanessa pointed him out, and Edith pulled off her gardening gloves. Mrs. Montgomery hugged Blaine, and he smiled shyly. He never understood why he felt this way, but he had always been jealous of the Montgomery lifestyle.

Wes's wife invited Blaine inside. For a moment, he was seriously considering making up a sudden excuse to leave and get a KFC bucket on the way home, but the way Vanessa got down from her daddy's arms and took his palm in her little hand was so adorable. He just couldn't say no.

"I'm gonna be four…erm…Money-day," she smiled brightly and Blaine laughed. Wes bent down to his child and rested her hand on his shoulder, stopping them from walking.

"Monday, sunshine," he smiled, kissing her cheek and she smiled.

"Mon-day," she smirked, giggling when her daddy kissed her cheek wetly, blowing a raspberry. Blaine smiled and Vanessa let go of his hand to jump back up into her father's arms again. Blaine followed, hands in his pockets as Edith set up the table for him in addition to the regulars. He sat where she indicated, and Wes rested Vanessa in her chair before kissing his wife's cheek. Blaine shifted awkwardly.

"You ok, Blaine?" The older male asked while Edith brought out the roast beef and rested it on the table.

"Thank you," Blaine said to the young brunette woman. "And yeah, Wes, I'm ok."

"Good," the other young man smiled. "Now let's dig in."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Kurt Hummel walked along Liberty Avenue until he came to a large ruined building, which was still blocked off from the public. There was no one around now, no press or public, just…himself.

The night was dark and cool, and Kurt was wearing a sweater far too big for him as well as jeans which he had to pull up every five minutes. All his clothes had been burnt in the fire and he had gotten these from donations provided by the charity shops for the survivors of the blaze.

He was tired, but he just felt weird in the hostile where he was sleeping. It was dank and the walls had mold along the walls as well as damp spots on the ceiling, still it was only ten dollars a night, all he could afford at this point.

He sat on the curb and looked to the ruins of the fire where he had lost Gabriel last night. Tears filled his eyes. The fire had taken all his possessions, and Rachel had taken the most important person from his life. He buried his face in his hands, his heart breaking. He just didn't know what to do.

-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N: I hope you guys liked it :) don't be afraid to leave some feedback, I don't bite x3


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** thank you so much to puppetmasterC for her amazing help, I mean it she's awesome :D this chapter isn't very long and I apologize for that but I hope you enjoy :) I'll try reply to reviews but I have to get to college for my last class in less than 30mins, I love you all xxxxx

…

'_Help! Please someone help us!'_

'_I can't see! Please, please someone!'_

'_MY BABY! SOMEONE GET MY BABY!'_

It was late that night and Blaine couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed as his memory worked overtime recalling the extreme temperatures of the fire, the screaming, the rubble falling around him, or the people bashing into him running frantically. That young boy, clinging to him for fear of being left behind, and Emmet becoming trapped, dying. Blaine wondered how Emmet's wife, Amelia, was coping. Was anyone else as hung up on this issue as he was?

He simply couldn't sleep, and it was almost three in the morning, which meant that calling Wes was out of the question. He was probably curled up in his home, spooning his darling wife and Vanessa, who crawled in between her parents to be cuddled to sleep. He also couldn't contact Fiona since his little sister was staring in some commercial in Germany and he had no idea what time it was there. He couldn't unload all of his problems on his little sister.

Sighing, he decided to just take a drive. Hopefully soon the autopsy of Emmet would be back. Maybe that, in some way, would ease his mind. They were going to go back to the site tomorrow. Cops and the fire service were still trying to find the cause of the inferno.

It was Thursday night, well, Friday morning and he had planned to go out for a drink or two, with Wes, but that hadn't gone ahead as Emmet was supposed to join them. Blaine was in no mood to celebrate anything, or even act like everything was okay because it surely wasn't.

He got into the bottle green, 1994 Lada Priora and took a moment before he turned the key and the engine purred to life, or rather chucked, spat, and eventually the sound evened out so he was sure it would take him somewhere. He eased his foot on the clutch and put it in first, driving the stick shift out onto the unusually deserted L.A. roads. This city never slept and tonight he felt like he was the only person awake in it, as if the world moved only for him.

He mused silently to himself as he drove along the streets, the lamplights providing all the light needed as well as his own headlamps. There were some X rated stores and bars open, but Blaine didn't care for stopping anywhere. He drove through L.A. for a while, driving from his home to the fire station where he worked, bypassing the estate where Wes and his family lived. Driving through the deserted street passing shops and houses, bars, clubs, department stores, he came to an area of L.A. that was really a series of high rise flats, rather run down apartments.

Sadly, there was one which was now just cinders and ashes. The once feeble excuse at housing was now just rubble, but no matter how rundown or neglected the structure was, it was still home to many, many people and had claimed numerous lives of children, adults and one of the members of the fire service. Blaine pulled up some distance up along the street and stood out, walking along the road with his hands in his pockets. It was early December and he could see his breath in the night time air. While walking along he looked to the demolished home and his eyes widened as in the darkness he saw someone inside the tape, rooting through the residue.

"Hey, get out of there!" he cried out, running over, hands slipping out of his pockets as he rushed to the shadowed figure. "You're not allowed in there, get out!" The figure stood up straight, but didn't move and Blaine ducked beneath the tape, rushing over, telling him to go.

Kurt stood straight with wide eyes as some yells broke the silence and a figure ran to him. He staggered back as if to run, but in his mind he had done nothing wrong. He had just been looking when he saw the ruined gifts he had bought for his son for Christmas. It had been a story book—he knew Gabriel loved fairy tales. The book wasn't the most beautiful, but it had so many stories that he couldn't wait to read Gabriel when he curled up beside him to sleep. Now the pages were singed and torn, the plastic cover melted into burned paper and ash, and only some of the title was readable. He couldn't help but duck in to retrieve it, only to find a melted Bumblebee transformer and the Lego set he had gotten his son almost all destroyed. It was heartbreaking, now Gabriel wouldn't even be allowed to be with him for Christmas, let alone have these gifts.

Kurt had tears in his eyes and he didn't recognize the man who ran to him at first.

"You shouldn't be in here," the Eurasian looking stranger stated. Kurt just held up the Bumblebee in one hand and book in the other.

"T-these were for my son," he said in a faint whisper, not sure if that would excuse his actions or anything, but it was the truth. These were for his precious baby boy. Gabriel was six, but he'd always be his baby.

Blaine looked to the gifts in Kurt's hands and something in his mind registered. He had seen the brunette before when he ran for his son whom Blaine had saved. He had also seen him later after that standing outside the tape.

"You're the man who…," he trailed off when a look of pain came across Kurt's face.

"Yes, I'm the guy who lost his son," he whispered, knuckling tears away. "His hand slipped from mine…I-I don't know what I'd do, if it hadn't been for," he looked up and saw Blaine as if for the first time and his eyes widened. "For you, hadn't been for you." Unexpectedly he dropped the toys, rushing forward and just wrapped his arms around the elder man, his leg movements causing some ashes to rise around them. "Thank you, you saved my boy. I can never thank you enough."

Blaine's eyes widened when the slender but strong arms wound around him, squeezing him to the slender body, and he awkwardly patted Kurt's back. It was highly unexpected when the chestnut haired man broke down, crying against his shoulder, but Blaine hushed him, feeling slightly awkward with the situation.

He patted his back, palm thumping against the brunette's bony shoulder blade as he looked down to him and Kurt backed away, knuckling tears.

"S-sorry, dunno what came over me," he mumbled, biting his lip and moving out of Blaine's awkward grip. Blaine looked to the slightly younger man, so skinny and almost frail in stature with the clothes hanging off him like a mouse in elephant skin.

"What's your name?" he asked softly. Blaine looked up to the ever so slightly taller man, sniffling.

"Kurt Hummel," he replied, rubbing his nose as he sniffled. Blaine held out his left hand, taking Kurt's free right one it in, palm to palm as they shook.

"I'm Blaine Anderson," he said and Kurt nodded softly, still brushing tears away. Blaine could see how fragile this guy was, and to be honest, he was scared. Kurt didn't look like the kind who had much going for him. He was scrawny and frail, pale too—almost snow white—and his arms, which were visible due to the rolled up sleeves, were stick thin and bony. He didn't look healthy, and right now he looked like he didn't care about that at all. Blaine felt worried and swallowed loudly, stroking the back of his neck.

"Did they house you somewhere?" he asked and the brunette nodded, looking to his feet as he nudged some half burned floral curtains out of the way. The cops had taken photos and everything, there was an investigation into what caused the fire, but neither seemed to consider than they were disturbing the scene at all. It never came to mind, it was just rubble and ash, broken memories.

"A hostile," Kurt said in a hoarse tone and closed his eyes. "It's horrible."

"Is your son there?" Kurt looked up to Blaine. It was strange, these questions were so personal, but he didn't feel like Blaine was stepping over any boundaries.

"No," he said quietly and lowered his head. "He's…he's with his mom." Blaine sensed a story there, but he didn't want to pry so he nodded and looked around him. This place was horrible, he had to get Kurt out of here, he didn't know why, but he felt responsible for the brunette man.

"Hey." he said softly, looking to the fragile man. Why did he have such a dreadful feeling? As if…as if, if he didn't look out for this brunette, then something really bad could happen, possibly self-inflicted. Kurt didn't look like he had much to live for outside of his son. Somehow, Blaine felt that if he helped the brunette, then he would be atoned for being unable to help Emmet. "I, erm, I have a spare bedroom." He couldn't believe he was actually suggesting this. "The bed is comfortable, and I live alone so you won't be in anyone's way."

"No, please stop," Kurt said as politely as he could manage and looked to the older, shorter man. His hands were back in his pockets and shoulders hunched up to his ears, he shivered. "Look, thank you, that's more than generous, but you don't have to."

"But I want to," Blaine interrupted, being completely honest as he looked to Kurt, gnawing his lip. He wanted to help, in fact he needed it, for selfish reasons, but he would be helping out this man, right?

"Look, you saved my son, that's more than I can ask for." Kurt pulled the sleeves down on the too large sweater, as if that would protect him from any cold he felt, and he held the ruined gifts to his chest as he began walked away. Blaine jogged over, catching the brunette as he ducked beneath the tape.

"Please, I just want to help," he begged, but Kurt assured him he had helped more than enough. Blaine bent down, moving the tape so he could get out and his foot brushed against something harsh. He looked down to see a pretty much intact box of a new toy, a shiny fire truck with lights and working sounds. The young man bent down to pick it up and examined it for a moment, looking to Kurt who was walking away.

"Hey!" he called, but Kurt continued his march in the other direction. "Does this belong to your boy?" The brunette stopped, unable to help himself as he looked over his shoulder only to see the toy in Blaine's hand, practically unharmed, even the box intact save for one corner a little brown and singed. Kurt eyed the gift he had been so excited to get his son and he walked slowly over, eyeing the present and taking it from Blaine who handed it to him.

Kurt hadn't expected to tear up again, but he did, gazing down to the gift.

"I-I was supposed t-to have him this year," he found himself admitting, brokenly. The last two years he had been alone on Christmas. He was allowed to have Gabriel the morning of Christmas Eve but usually had to bring him home around six-ish. And he wasn't even allowed come around the next morning to see his baby boy open his presents, not that Rachel invested in much. Most of her money went to her recreational habits as opposed to their son. Kurt gazed to the toy, his heart breaking and tears filling his eyes. Blaine touched his shoulder and whispered that it was okay.

Kurt lowered and shook his head.

"No, no it's not okay," he whispered hoarsely. "Look at me, I couldn't even protect him."

"You tried your best—I saw." Blaine stated and squeezed his shoulder. "You tried to get back into him. You tried to save your son." Kurt scoffed, he _tried_, but he was Gabriel's father, he should never have lost him to begin with.

"But I didn't," he mumbled, holding the truck to his chest. He looked so lost, like a little boy, and Blaine chewed on his lip.

"Kurt," he said softly and his grip on the young man's shoulder lessened. "Please, stay a night. It's better than the hostiles they put victims in, believe me, I've seen them. Just one night?" Kurt looked up to the beautiful, curly haired man, he didn't look like he had any other motives other than to help, and Kurt couldn't understand this.

"Why? Why are you helping me?" he asked softly, not declining the offer this time but not accepting either. Blaine bit his lip and looked to the brunette.

"Because…" he began, followed by a short pause. There was no point in lying. "Because I failed to help someone who needed it, and now I want to help you." Kurt looked to Blaine for some seconds and bit down on his tongue for a moment, holding up a single finger.

"One night?" Blaine nodded and the brunette followed suit. For some seconds they both stood in silence. Kurt was proud, not the kind to accept help from anyone, but right now, he just needed that hand of kindness Blaine was offering him. "Thank you," he whispered, swallowing his pride and holding the items to his chest. Blaine told him they could go to the hostile and gather some clothing and such for the young man whose own personal affects had all perished in the inferno.

Blaine led Kurt back to his car. When Kurt saw it his nose wrinkled, almost wanting to make a joke about the vehicle, but then again he didn't even have a car. Sam had gotten that off him, too. He just smiled thankfully and got into the seat beside Blaine, who took some long moments fiddling with the key until he was able to start up the car and drive off.

Kurt sat in silence. The burnt toys sat on his lap, and he clung to the fire truck as if it was his son, not daring to let go of the toy. Blaine struggled to remember the name of the young man's child.

"G-Gabriel likes fire trucks?" he looked to the brunette, just trying to start conversation. Kurt nodded. "You know maybe you could—"

"Bring him to the station?" Kurt finished, looking to the young fire fighter. "You offered that, thank you," he said as he looked to his lap, "but something tells me I won't be allowed to bring Gabriel on anymore visits anywhere." Blaine looked sympathetic; driving to where he suspected Kurt was housed.

"Don't think like that; you need to think positive," he said, only to be met with a scornful laugh and a roll of the eyes.

"Yeah, positive, because that's really gotten me far in life," Kurt hissed, glaring out the window. Blaine bit his lip, deciding to say no more as he drove Kurt to the hostile where he was being put up while trying to find some accommodation. The elder sat in the car, arms folded as he waited for Kurt to gather some clothes and such. Soon, though, they were on their way to Blaine's home.

It wasn't overly grand; he didn't have a huge house because he didn't need one. It was a quaint terrace house, two stories with a basement. There were two bedrooms, a bathroom upstairs and downstairs, a living area and a kitchen. From outside, the house was rather slender in structure, made of red brick, and it looked as if it was squashed between the identical homes on either side. It had long windows and a white painted door with the brass number 3 on it, as the 2 from the 32 had fallen off some time ago, and he hadn't been bothered to put it back on. Yet, mail somehow still arrived to him.

There was no front garden; the house was right on the pathway with a long, narrow case of stone steps leading up to the door. Out the back was one large green area connected to the many houses. It was more like a park with high fences and a swing set for the people who had kids here. Since it was now almost five in the morning, however, it was dead outside and Blaine led Kurt up the steps into the small home with the honey colored walls and cool floorboards.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Blaine said with a soft smile.

…

**A/N:** I'm pretty sure we'll see more into Kurt's past soon :) may I ask something? Does this work? Do you guys like the whole, knowing very little at the beginning and growing to know more? Or do you prefer kinda like little back stories at the beginning? I wanna hear all your thoughts and suggestions for the future :) this story is after all for you guys as well as every story I'll write and I would love to get feedback as to what maybe I shouldn't repeat etc, thank you 333

I love you guys so much, sorry I'm slower updating, college and all :( ugh I feel like I'm so mean to Rachel cos she's like…my fav glee girl


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** thanks so much to puppetmasterC for her hard work betaing :D we get a little glance into our boys personal lives here, sorry about the delay, I guess that's what I get for…well being a gobshite and taking on too many projects xD oh well I love them all and I hope you all do too, hopefully you'll all enjoy this chapter, sadly no Gabe but still…enjoy xxxx

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Wow, this place is amazing!" Kurt gasped, walking inside and gazing around, feeling a little like a pauper off the street. In truth, it wasn't much—the rooms weren't very big, and the hall was cramped—but to Kurt it was beautiful. The hallway was a honey golden color, and half of the four by six foot bottom hallway was taken up by a dark oak desk with a vase of flowers and a woodcarving of a bear catching a salmon on it. Kurt touched the ornament and looked around, smiling gently. This place was amazing in his eyes.

"It's not much, but it's home," Blaine mumbled, contradicting his thoughts, and Kurt looked to him.

"Not much? This place is, well, it's fantastic, Blaine. It's beautiful," he said with wide eyes. Blaine chuckled softly. Suddenly, he was under the impression Kurt didn't mind staying here for a night. Blaine wasn't rich in any way. His rather embarrassing car and mediocre house echoed that, but to Kurt, it was more than he had dared to dream since the divorce. 

The brunette was looking around the hall at the photographs that lined the wall, and he even dared to ask who the young man with Blaine in one of his photos was. 

"Your son?" he asked, and Blaine shook his head, chuckling.

"My brother," he corrected him, hands behind his back as he looked to the picture. "Jason. There's a ten year age gap between us, and he looks younger than he is anyway." Kurt nodded, looking to the photo. The image was of both brothers, smiling, standing on front of a gorgeous beach house with sandy white dunes behind them, and the sun lighting up their tanned flesh.

"It's a nice photo," Kurt commented and Blaine nodded.

"Two years ago, when we were at our grandparents place in Greece for a reunion," he informed Kurt, taking his bag, which was unexpectedly light. "He's over there now, studying for a year." Kurt nodded and looked to the bag which Blaine held tightly in his hand. "C'mon, I can show you where you'll sleep." The brunette nodded and followed. He was still holding the toy truck from the wreck to his chest as he marched after Blaine along the narrow staircase. At the top, there was the teeniest landing with an attic door above them. A bathroom was directly in front of them, the only in the house, and a quite nice sized master bedroom to their left, Blaine's room. To the right, facing off the front of the home, was a small boxy, guest room. "Here you go," Blaine said, walking inside and resting the bag on the small single bed. "It's not much, but it's cozy."

It indeed was very humble, even Kurt saw that. In fact, his room at the hostile was bigger, but this room was homier. It had soft, baby blue walls, a painting of some boats on a river hung over the bed, a giant closet built into the wall, and a small, white bed side desk, upon which was another bear woodcarving. It was modest, but Blaine was right, it was indeed cozy. 

"It's perfect. Thank you, Blaine," Kurt said, unsure of what else to say as he looked around him. He sat on the bed, it was comfortable. A warm smile spread across Blaine's features as he watched the young man in front of him bounce innocently to test out the bed. 

"My room's just there," he said, pointing back to the room across from Kurt. "Just, ya know, in case you need anything," Kurt smiled and bowed his head in silent appreciation. He left his head hanging, unable to look at Blaine.

"Thank you for this. Most people wouldn't just take someone they just met in for a night." Blaine nodded, but shrugged.

"I know, but I like to think I'm not 'most people,'" he said with a gentle smile and looked back. "It's pretty late, you probably need some rest." Kurt nodded slowly and gazed to Blaine. 

"Thank you, again." he said and the elder smiled.

"Don't mention it," he said, backing away. "I think I'm going to hit the sack, good night." 

"G'night," the brunette mumbled as Blaine backed away and closed the door. Kurt stood, gazing out the window at the lazy, dark street below. He had always dreamed of eventually having a house, but nothing specific. Any house would do, really. A bungalow, a two-story, or a terrace—the house never really mattered, just dreamed that it was his own home for himself and his son. This place would've been perfect, it was beautiful. 

He smiled gently, swearing that someday he would own a home like this. Then he closed the curtains, turning on the desk lamp and switching off the ceiling light. He stripped down to some second hand night sweats and went to hide his bag away in the built in wardrobe, but it was filled with everything from movies and cameras, to art supplies and books. He was tempted to have a look but he didn't. Instead, he just tucked his bag away in the corner. The young male then rested the toy fire truck on the bedside table, made himself comfortable under the soft, cotton covers, and plopped his head back on the pillow.

For some moments he sat in silence, reflecting on everything.

Back in high-school he had been filled with such hope, such promise. He had met Rachel his sophomore year, but the two hadn't begun to date until they were each juniors. Their relationship from the beginning had been flawed. Rachel had just gotten out of a bad break up with her first boyfriend Finn. Kurt, well he would have taken anyone—any girl—it didn't matter who she was. He just needed a girlfriend, and Rachel needed someone to make Finn jealous. They had been the very best of friends with high hopes to go to Broadway.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to think anymore about his past which had all gone downhill so rapidly. Instead, he focused on the bed he laid in and his surroundings.

It was so quiet. No lovers argument's on the floor above, no car alarm going off outside, no TV switched on to the max in his neighbor's apartment. He heard Blaine downstairs trying to be quiet as he pottered around before heading to bed, and he smiled gently. This was…it was nice. He knew that, despite all that happened, he'd have a good night's sleep here. 

-.-.-.-.-.-

Kurt did indeed sleep well, and when Blaine woke up at 11 am after having a well deserved lie-in, he checked on his guest. He was unable to help the smile that crept across his face when he saw the brunette laying on top of the covers, arm discarded over the bed, head tilted to his left, snoring loudly. Chuckling softly, Blaine slowly closed the door and went downstairs to make some Spanish omelettes for himself and his visitor. The fire-fighter reached the first floor, and walked through the rather spacious living and dining room through a door to the predictably small kitchen. The kitchen was even smaller than his little bathroom, but had all the essentials needed for survival. Blaine was about to cook something for his guest when he felt like giving Wes a ring. He wasn't sure why but he felt in a rather chipper mood. Perhaps his good deed last night was the reason for his elation this morning.

The young man found himself humming as he dialed his friend's number before sandwiching it between his ear and shoulder.

"Good morning, Wes," he spoke softly when the elder male picked up, hearing a tired moan on the other end.

"It's too early to be up," the voice at the other side of the line said, and Blaine laughed.

"Wesley Montgomery, its 11am, how dare you say it's too early," Blaine chuckled, listening to his best friend yawning.

Wesley could hear noises now that he was awake. He heard laughter outside, his daughter crying out to his wife. 'Mommy, mommy, watch me!' He held the phone to his ear, not talking, but walking over to the window, and looked outside. His young girl was trying to spin a too large hula-hoop, but it just kept falling from her sleek hips. Her mother, who was simply sitting outside and enjoying the sunshine, chuckled warmly and extended an arm. The little girl rushed over, hopping onto her mommy's lap, sipping some of the lemonade his wife had made.

"Wes?" Blaine asked, and the elder shook his head, waking himself more.

"Sorry about that," he apologized in a lazy tone, rubbing his forehead and eyes. "So, what's up?" Both of the young men had the day off, and Wesley had really been hoping to spend it with his wife and daughter.

"Nothing much," Blaine said, cracking some eggs into a cup before scouring through the cupboards. "Just felt like a chat. Should have known you'd be asleep, though."

"Har har," Wes laughed sarcastically, pulling on some clean underwear over his toned legs and hips before gripping some khaki shorts. "You're so funny, Blainey. 

"Yeah, I should have been a comedian," Blaine smirked, glad when he found some left over potatoes from yesterday in the strainer. "Is it such a crime to want to talk to my best friend?" 

Wesley scoffed. "You should really get yourself a woman, Blaine," he informed the younger of the two, turning his cell on loudspeaker and resting it on the bed as he pulled a black ADIDAS t-shirt over his head. "Then you won't be bothering me all the time." Blaine rolled his eyes, throwing the mix of eggs, onions, potatoes and other various ingredients into a frying pan and searching for the spatula. 

"Shut up," he said with a roll of his eyes. Just as he said this the door opened, and Kurt stood there, holding up the far too large pajama bottoms he was wearing. "Gotta go, Wes, I have a guest."

Wesley's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

"A guest? Like a woman? You dog, Anderson, you should have told me!" he laughed, but the younger fire-fighter had hung up without an answer, leaving a stunned and wrongly informed Wes on the other end.

"Good morning," Blaine said, spinning around to the stove and turning down the heat.

"Morning," Kurt replied, rubbing his eyelid and yawning softly. He looked wrecked in every sense of the word, with circles under his bloodshot eyes. It was a contrast considering he had just had the best night's sleep he had in two long years.

"I'm making Spanish omelettes. Would you like some?" he smiled to Kurt, whose cheeks tinged pink. 

"Thank you, but I don't want to impose," he informed Blaine, looking to the delicious smelling food and licked his lips. Blaine laughed softly and flipped the mixture over.

"Nonsense, you're having some. I'm actually quite a good cook," he said with a cocky smile and looked over his shoulder at the other man, leaving it for a few more minutes before he put it on a plate and handed it to Kurt. The brunette thanked Blaine, daring to look in one of the drawers for a fork and knife. When he found one he looked around the small kitchen with its white tiles and cream walls. One of which was covered with some corn print wallpaper that suggested an elderly women had possibly lived here before Blaine and he hadn't been bothered to take it down yet. 

"Erm…"

"The table's in the living room," Blaine said, indicating to the wooden door across the room. "You would have passed it on the way in." Kurt nodded, loitering in the kitchen as he felt awkward eating alone while Blaine cooked. The elder chuckled softly when he noticed that Kurt was hanging around, but he said nothing and instead made his own omlette. Still humming, he gripped some farm fresh butter from the fridge and sliced brown bread before walking into the kitchen. Finally feeling comfortable enough to leave, Kurt followed and soon both were setting places on the small oak table. 

"Would you like a drink?" The elder asked, not sitting, but resting his plate on the table. Kurt looked up to him from his seated position, but shook his head. 

"Oh no, this is more than enough, thank you," he said, digging into the omelette, eating a little too enthusiastically to show his appreciation. Blaine chuckled.

"Calm down or you'll choke," he smiled, nipping on some of his own egg and moaning softly at the taste. He was quite a good, thank you very much. They sat in relative silence for some time until Blaine caught Kurt gazing at a woodcarving on the fireplace of a bear catching two salmon. "Something wrong?" Blaine asked as Kurt lowered the fork from his lips.

"Oh, nothing. I just noticed you have a few of those little ornaments." he said, taking more of the fluffy egg, and popping it into his mouth. Blaine smiled softly. 

"My dad—he's into all these trinkets, and every birthday sends something like that to me," Blaine informed him with a polite chuckle and looked to the brunette who smiled softly.

"That's nice. Your dad—he's in America?" Kurt recalled how Blaine had mentioned his grandparents lived in Greece so he wasn't sure if perhaps the young man was from there originally. He had a flawless American accent but his looks were most definitely of European decent. Blaine looked up and gazed to Kurt who suddenly felt embarrassed by how private his question had been. "I'm sorry, if that was too personal." 

"Oh, no, you're completely fine," the elder man said with a kind smile, looking to the carving. "He lived here, yes. He is from Greece, though, and came to America some years ago. Then he met my mother, and well," the young man smiled and gestured to himself with his hands. This elected a soft chuckle from Kurt before the elder gripped a slice of bread and began to butter. "They're back in Greece now, I hope to move there after I retire." Kurt smiled gently.

"Sounds nice," he said and looked to the meal. Even though they didn't talk much, there was a comfortable feeling in the room between the two men. Blaine was happy to be here with Kurt. He enjoyed the company; it was something he didn't have much of, especially not overnight.

"So, what about your parents?" Blaine asked and Kurt gazed to his plate, a shadow crossing his face and Blaine's eyes widened as he realized he had stepped out of line. "I'm sorry," he apologized automatically, but Kurt shook his head.

"N-no it's fine," he stated with one of the falsest smiles Blaine had ever seen. Blaine had answered his question, surely he deserved to have the favor returned? But still, the idea of talking to anyone about his parents filled Kurt with a sickness in his stomach. "I'm sorry, to be honest I'm just not very comfortable talking about my—"

"Oh, it's totally fine." Blaine cut him off in a hurry, waving his hands to emphasize the fact that he had been wrong to ask. "I should never have pried, it was my fault." 

"No. No it's not that," Kurt said, speaking as Blaine also spoke, shaking his head and losing his appetite. "Erm…" He stood up, picking up his half full plate in his hands. "Thank you very much for putting me up for the night." He began to walk towards the kitchen, passing Blaine. "But I should probably get all my things. Get out of your hair." Kurt hated that he had ruined the comfortable atmosphere, and now he was starting to run. He wanted out; he wanted to get the fuck out of here before he made Blaine even more uneasy.

The handsome hero looked back with stunned eyes. 

"Hey," he said, forgetting his own breakfast and standing up. He followed the younger, tempted to grip his wrist, but he refrained from touching, not wanting to overstep anymore boundaries. "Hey, stop for a second." Kurt did, and gazed over his shoulder to the younger man. "You don't have to go yet," Blaine let out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair and gnawing on his bottom lip. Kurt looked confused and somewhat concerned as to why this practical stranger was suggesting he stay even longer. 

"No, I think it's best I go now. I would be leaving soon anyway." Blaine groaned under his breath, unable to explain why, but he had a feeling like his debt wasn't quite repaid. He couldn't help Emmet, and now his shot at redemption was walking out the door. 

"Stay another night!" he said almost frantic as Kurt dumped his breakfast into the food bin, frowning slightly as he heard this. "Stay here one more night at least. It's far more comfortable than some hostile, right? And I cook, and I won't pry anymore; I apologize for that." Kurt shook his head. 

"That wasn't your fault, it was mine. I shouldn't freeze so easily. I just ruin everything, and it'll be best if I leave." Blaine finally did chance gripping Kurt's wrist so they looked to one another. 

"Please!" Blaine pleaded in a loud, final tone. "Let me help you!" Kurt couldn't understand this man's desperate need to make sure he was okay. To be honest, he couldn't be sure that if he was out of Blaine's watch something bad wouldn't happen. He couldn't guarantee that if he went home tonight he would be well in the morning. 

"II'm not sure," Kurt bit his lip. "I really don't want to cause you any trouble."

"If you don't want to cause trouble then stay," Blaine said, looking to the young brunette. "Stay. Have a roof over your head, at least until you find your footing." Kurt looked to the other man, amazed at how kind he was to him, but he felt so guilty, as if taking advantage of him.

"Just one more night?" he asked, and Blaine bit his lip.

"Well, just stay a few nights, few days, few weeks—just until you've gathered yourself." Kurt bit his lip and looked around him at the beautiful home. 

"O-okay," he finally agreed, causing the elder man to sigh loudly in obvious relief. "B-but I'm going back to my job in two days. I'll pay my way here."

"That's really not necessary," Blaine insisted, shaking his head, but the brunette frowned.

"I'm paying," he said in a strict, 'no arguments' tone of voice, with his hands on his hips. Blaine couldn't help but smile slightly at the pose.

"Okay, $20 a week?" Kurt frowned.

"Don't patronize me!" he said in a very serious tone, but Blaine couldn't help but chuckle finding it very funny and somewhat adorable. "I'm paying at least $70 a week." 

"How about we level? $45?" Kurt shook his head.

"Oh no! The lowest I'll go is $80!" he said in a firm voice, folding his arms, and Blaine burst into a laugh. 

"A moment ago it was $70." He chuckled and Kurt bit his lip. 

"Well, now that's changed!" He insisted stubbornly, and Blaine smiled fondly towards the man on front of him.

"We'll sort something out," he claimed, knowing that he would actually quite enjoy the company of this young man.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**A/N:** don't be afraid to leave a review :3


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** hey guys, I'm in class, I'm sorry I wont be able to do personal thanks but I LOVE you all so much more than you know xx hope you all enjoy this! Thanks to PuppetmasterC for all her help :)

…

"You're what?" Wes Montgomery gasped, gazing at the young man beside him as they stood along the pathway. There were cops looking around the rubble of the building that had burned to the ground just days earlier. Blaine shrugged and looked to the people who were inspecting the scene. He wished so much he could ask them what they had discovered, but he knew that was a private inspection. He knew that should his or any of the firemen's assistance be needed they would be called upon; he just had to be patient.

"I'm letting someone stay in my house. What about it?" he asked, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a cream polo with a brown, corduroy jacket and darker tanned trousers. Wes was gazing to his friend as if he was a lunatic.

"But you don't even know this guy," he claimed, causing Blaine to just shrug once again. He wasn't being very chatty, which was odd, considering Wes had always been the shyer one of the two. After he met Edith, though, he had really come out of his shell and, his confidence continued to grow. "Blaine, c'mon man, this isn't smart." Blaine glanced to his friend and sighed as they passed the building.

"Wes, he's lost everything," he muttered, looking down to his shoes. "I mean, this place was all he had." He glanced to his friend and stretched out, touching his shoulder. "Look, everyone deserves a chance to have a good life, right? Isn't Edith proof of that for you?"

Wes looked to the ground. He had been in a bad place before his wife came into his life. It wasn't drugs or alcohol, rather an abusive relationship. It was very embarrassing to have been pushed around by a woman, but it had happened to him. Wes was just too nice of a guy to stand up for himself, or to fight back. He had just remained in the relationship until his ex eventually grew bored of him as a punching bag. His confidence had been shattered; he was a shadow of himself. Then a year after the break-up he met Edith; his soul mate, his second chance, the love of his life.

"Blaine, that's different," the elder muttered, shaking his head. The half Irish man looked to his friend, slightly frowning.

"How is it different?" he requested to know, not impressed by his friends reactions. The fellow firefighter sighed and looked to his compassionate colleague.

"Well, like Edith and I…I mean that's fate, man," he muttered. "This is you letting a strange man, who you've just met, into your home." Blaine didn't respond, he just shook his head gently and wrapped his arms around his body.

"He needs a chance," he just responded, shaking his head. Wes looked to his best friend and took in a breath.

"Is this to do with Emmett?" the curly haired male tensed and gazed to the ground at the mention of his old friend. Was it really so obvious? He couldn't shake the sickening feeling of guilt whenever he thought of how he should have looked out for him. He was having a fucking baby. He shouldn't have died. Still not looking to his friend, he kicked a piece of rock that rested on front of his toe.

"No, of course not," he lied, voice not at all convincing. The two walked in silence for a few more minutes until they came to a small coffee shop that some of the guys in the fire service had found the day after the fire. Wes suggested they just stop for a break and have a coffee. Blaine agreed. He was tired of being on edge, hoping they'd call for his help. The half-Asian male opening the door and silently his friend followed him.

It was a small café, and Blaine found himself wondering if Kurt had ever been in here. It wasn't exactly nice, but this neighborhood wasn't necessarily nice either. The walls were a sickly yellow, the paint was peeling, and there was gum actually visible underneath each of the brown, circular tables. Blaine sat at of the cleaner tables as a young woman came over. Her medium length red hair was tied back in a bun. She had large brown eyes with long lashes that fell over her soft, round, freckle coated cheeks. Blaine found himself staring at her. She was pretty, youthful, and the young hero felt bad for her living in such an area. He didn't feel safe here, and this girl didn't look any older than nineteen.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked in her southern belle accent. She probably had come here with hopes of a new life, but got this. Blaine didn't realize he was just staring until he noticed her concerned gaze. He shook himself a little before burying his head in the menu, which was printed out on a small, laminated card.

"Erm, could I just have a black coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich please?" he asked. She nodded, gazing to the handsome man across from Blaine once he was finished.

"Just a coffee for me," Wes said, handing her his menu. Blaine gazed to his best friend.

"You're not getting something to eat?" he asked. Wes shook his head.

"No, Edith's parents are coming over. She's been preparing dinner all evening," he said, looking to his friend as he toyed with a sachet of sugar which rested in a white, china cup in the center of the table. Blaine looked to his friend, smirking.

"The dreaded in-laws," he chuckled softly, fingers running through his feather light hair. Wes smirked. His in-laws weren't that bad, but there was always that feeling of inadequacy when it came to his wife's parents. Blaine's smile turned a little awkward but he mumbled an agreement under his breath. What he wouldn't give for some in-laws that terrified him. He wished for everything that a young man in his twenties should have. What Wes had.

He wanted the family, the comfort of waking up every morning to a wonderfully smelling breakfast, getting his kid ready for school. God, did he want a kid. More than anything he wanted a child to love and spoil. A boy or a girl, it didn't really matter. Maybe one of each. He was amazing with kids and he loved them. Ever since he was a teenager he knew he wanted one. There was one issue however.

He considered himself asexual. Even in his fantasies, the thoughts of the perfect, sexy, wonderful wife brought him no pleasure. He never had been interested in girls or even sex as a kid. He had been devoted to his studies and now was married to his job. He wanted a kid yes, and he wanted the security of a relationship, but the thoughts of having a wife or even a girlfriend seemed like more of a bother than anything else.

"They're staying the week for Vanessa's birthday," Wes was still talking and Blaine tried to zone back into the conversation, trying to appear like he hadn't gone into a world of his own. He noticed how friend stealthily reminded him that his godchild's birthday was merely three days away. Blaine looked to the elder, his expression making it clear that he did remember, but he didn't say a word. This made his friend unsure if he was attending or not. "Blaine?" Wes muttered, about to tell him how much it would mean to his daughter if he was there, but Blaine shook his head and stood up.

"I need to use the toilet," he said and left as the girl came over with their coffees. He almost bumped into her, but she jumped back in before he could, however, she spilled a bit on her skirt. The poor girl cried out loudly as it scalded her through her skirt. Blaine broke into apologies as she placed the coffees down only to rush behind the desk to get a sponge of cold water and dab herself down. The hot drink had been scalding and Blaine rushed over, standing on the opposite side of the counter.

"I'm really so sorry," he said softly and gazed to her as she patted down the black skirt she was wearing.

"It's okay,." she whispered, wondering if she had any marks on her legs. Blaine felt terrible and took out a twenty, resting it on the counter, she glanced to it. "No, really, it's alright."

"Please, take it," Blaine said and walked over to his best friend, sitting across from him. Wes looked to the elder man and then to his coffee which had been the one that spilled. As he picked it up the girl came rushing over to them.

"N-no," she said, standing by him. "I'll get you more coffee. I'm so, so sorry."

Wes shook his head and looked to her.

"Please, I'm okay. We both are, and the coffees are fine," he looked to the girl who was flustered, "and we're sorry for this." The girl shook her head and smiled a friendly smile to show it was alright. She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down to the cute, but married, firefighter.

"Are you sure about the coffees?" she asked, looking from one to the other. "Really, I can get more. It's a slow day." Blaine looked around, noticing that they were actually the only people here.

"Really, these are perfect," he said gently as she walked away from him to get his sandwich. Blaine felt really terrible, and he rested his head in his hands. Wes was glancing to him.

"Thought you had to go to the toilet," he said in a harsh tone. What he wanted to ask was, "didn't you make up some lousy excuse avoid talking to me?" Blaine looked to his friend and then nodded, standing, careful to look this time as the girl came over and rested his sandwich on the table.

"Thanks," he mumbled, passing her and going to the bathroom, not sure which one was the males as neither were marked other than 'Toilets'. He opened one door to see a urinal and then walked inside, closing it behind him and running his fingers through his hair.

…

Kurt had one more day until he went back to work, but he was a little lost. He sat in Blaine's home, in the room the kind man had given him. The brunette was sitting on the soft bed, head in his hands as he listened to Rachel's answering machine for the sixth time today.

'Hi, you've reached Rachel. I'm not here at the moment, so please leave a message after the beep…or if you're Kurt, then just leave me alone.' **Beep!**

"Rach, please…" Kurt whispered, hand stroking his forehead and hair as he shivered. His heart was aching; he needed to see his son, his baby boy. "Please, call me back, I need to talk to him, or at least have the decency to tell me how he is. Tell him I love him. I'm begging you."

He hung up the cell and closed his eyes, shivering. God, he felt so sick. Rachel had a tendency to move around a lot. At five o'clock that morning he had gone to her last address to find she wasn't there. He was willing to bet she had taken Gabriel and their stuff and moved in with Owen. He felt sick when he recalled Gabriel telling him that the man wanted him to call him daddy. _His _son, _his_ little boy. He was Gabe's only Daddy, not this man who had only been in his life some months.

The brunette really felt like shit right about now, and he just needed to feel useful. He was glad his uncle was letting him come back to work tomorrow, but he couldn't help but wish it was today. Blaine had gone out a few hours ago with a friend, saying he'd be back around six, and it was now 5:42 in the evening. The young man felt like he should repay Blaine somehow. He didn't really have the money to pay him back even though they had settled on $50 a week.

Blaine really was incredibly nice; in fact, he was too kind to Kurt who really didn't deserve his generosity. He knew if the tables were turned he would never have allowed a stranger into his home. Still, he knew he owed a lot to this man. If he was honest he wasn't sure he'd even be alive today only for the generosity of the hero.

With a sigh, he stood and walked out of the quaint bedroom down the stairs. The home was built with high walls, but the staircase and halls were very narrow. He highly doubted that two people could walk side by side down the stairs. Honestly, he was even surprised Blaine could walk up it. The young man was quite buff, but then again, he was a fireman.

The brunette made his way down to the kitchen where he had shared a meal with Blaine that morning. The man was a good cook, but Kurt wanted to make him something nice. He had often cooked for his son, so he knew it would at least be edible.

He hoped Blaine wouldn't mind as he rummaged through his fridge and cupboards, finding some ground beef, garlic, tomatoes and a few other tidbits in the process. He broke up the pasta, purely out of habit from cooking for Gabe as he put on the kettle to boil, turning on two burners on the cooker. He was glad of this distraction as he sought out a saucepan, strainer, and frying pan to make a meal he hoped Blaine would enjoy.

He couldn't just sit around feeling useless. Even just cooking occupied his restless mind, and he could only hope he hadn't lost the knack. The only time he really cooked, other then experimenting, was when Gabriel was around, otherwise he was utterly committed to take-out.

As he pureed the tomatoes, the frying beef began to sizzle, and Kurt was able to escape just for that time as he pottered around the kitchen.

…

"There they are," Wes said with a forced smile as Blaine pulled up his car at the end of the Montgomery household. Wes's in-laws had literally pulled up just minutes before, and were standing in the garden with his beautiful wife and daughter. Wes had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He was always nervous with Mr. and Mrs. O' Hara, as he always feared they would just decide that he wasn't good enough for their daughter. He knew in his heart that Edith would love him regardless, but he felt he needed to live up to expectations. He wanted to be a man worthy of providing for her.

"They don't look too bad," Blaine said as Wes waved slowly, and looked to Blaine with a worried look in his eyes. Blaine was tempted to say he'd go in with him so it wouldn't be as bad, but the fact was that would mean facing the family. Facing Vanessa asking her uncle Blaine if he was coming to her birthday party. He loved kids and he loved Vanessa, but lately being around children had taken its toll, reminding him how time was running out if he wished to have a family. He was only twenty four but with his job felt so much older. "Go on, get out," he encouraged, shoving his friend playfully, but Wes looked to him.

"You're not coming?" he asked and Blaine shook his head.

"Nah, I promised Kurt I'd be home at six," he claimed, and the elder's thick eyebrow raised.

"Promised?" he questioned, strong arms folding, and Blaine frowned slightly.

"Well, I said I'd be there, and, you know, it's just polite to be on time." Wes shrugged, opening the door of the rather shitty car.

"If you say so," he said with a sigh, but then he looked back to his friend. "Please Blaine, come on Monday." Blaine looked out the window as Vanessa's grandfather lifted her in his arms, kissing her cheek. She giggled madly, looking to the car and seeing her father get out. He saw the look of utter happiness cross her face as she cried out that Daddy was home. Again that feeling of jealousy rose in his stomach, and he bit his lip.

He was being so selfish. Trying to get out of this just because he was jealous of his best friend. He lowered his head, feeling horrible, but he couldn't help it. He was _so_ lonely if he was honest with himself, and sometimes it just hurt to be around such a loving family as the Montgomery's.

Wes closed the door before he had a chance to say goodbye and he watched the father jog onto the path as his daughter leaped from her grandfather's arm. The girl rushed over, almost falling over her sparkling Lelli Kelly's before she lept into his arms, kissing his cheek. Edith approached with a loving smile, resting her hand on her husband's arm and leaning in, kissing his lips softly. Vanessa looked delighted as she always did when both parents were near. Edith noticed Blaine and waved to him, a very welcoming gesture, but he just smiled from his place in the car, granting her a flick of his fingers before the vehicle pulled away from the driveway and he drove off.

'I am a sucky friend,' he thought to himself as he drove away from his best friend's home. 'A sucky, sucky friend.' He really was; he wouldn't blame Wes if he got Vanessa a better godfather—one who came to her birthdays.

God, he couldn't believe she was another year older. It was so crazy. He could still remember standing beside Edith's friend Carli, Vanessa's godmother, the evening she was born. She was so beautiful, and even then looked exactly like her mother.

'Maybe I should try to make it to her birthday,' Blaine considered silently, still undecided as he pulled up to his own house. He had been in a world of his own, and hadn't even noticed the drive to the home.

He pulled his crappy car beside the stairway leading up to the front door. Having walked up the steep stairway, the young man fumbled with his keys for some minutes before realizing it was open already. Of course, Kurt was here. He opened the door, for some reason jokingly tempted to call 'honey, I'm home' even though he was in quite a down mood. He even smiled a little at the thought and walked in, smelling a delicious aroma. The young man toed off his shoes and through the living area, leaving his coat on the back of one of the table chairs. He then entered the small, cramped kitchen.

"Something smells nice," he said with a smile, surprising the young brunette who jumped and looked over his shoulder, hand over his heart. "Sorry if I frightened you."

"Nah, it's okay," Kurt said with a small smile. He looked nice when he smiled. Blaine couldn't help but return the small grin. Kurt was quite a handsome man, the fire-fighter had always been so focused on how skinny he was, how ill, and depressed he looked beforehand, but he was a very beautiful human being.

The Irish male walked over, looking to the pasta, still steeped in un-boiled, warm water and the sauce which was shimmering over the heated burner.

"Looks yummy," he noted and Kurt took out two plates. Blaine's eyes widened. "Oh you made me some?" Kurt smiled gently and looked back to the young man who had housed him.

"Of course," he said with a smile, straining the pasta before placing it on the plates. Blaine almost stood back to give him some room but instead rested a hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention.

"Thank you," he said, and both shared a smile before Blaine walked over to the fridge and asked the other man if he would like a glass of wine. It had been a long time since Kurt drank. He could remember times before Rachel became pregnant; when they were teens at house parties trying everything from martinis to wines. For some moments, he was silent, contemplating, but to be honest a nice red wine would taste really good with the spaghetti bolognaise he had now on both plates.

"Yes, please," he said, going back to the drawer and taking out spoons and forks, which he brought into the table in the living room. As he went back to get the plates, Blaine passed him, holding two wine glasses and the bottle of red. Both men shared a small smile, the two of them just glad for the company. Kurt jogged back into the kitchen and picked up the plates, careful as he brought them into the room.

"Smells nice," Blaine smiled as the plate was placed on front of him, and Kurt chuckled.

"You said that," Kurt replied with a small smile.

Both sat and Blaine picked up the fork and spoon, tucking into the meal wholeheartedly. Kurt was just toying with his own meal, unable to eat until he knew if Blaine liked it or not. He watched as the younger wrapped his mouth around the fork, one strand of spaghetti sticking to his wispy beard. The brunette couldn't help but chuckle as the elder across from him sucked in the noodle.

"What do you think?" he asked, still toying with the food. He hadn't touched his, instead waiting for a verdict as he gazed to the male across from him.

"Mmm, it's delicious," Blaine moaned, swallowing down the food as he dove back for some more. Kurt smiled in triumph and lifted the fork to his lips.

"Thank you," he smiled before he ate some of his own hard work, washing it down with the well selected wine. They continued the meal in relative silence, other than moans from Blaine and compliments to the brunette, but it was comfortable, and both were glad of company.

…

Wes was lying on his back in bed as plump, soft lips travelled along his thick neck. His fingers wound in the dark brown locks of his wife's hair and he closed his eyes, a small moan escaping his lips as he felt her bare stomach against his. He had been really surprised, in a pleasant way, when he walked into the bedroom to find his wife dressed in very flattering, brand new, bright red lace underwear.

"Sweetheart, they can't hear," Edith chuckled, laying over her husband and kissing him passionately, her lips soft against his and her tongue hot and exploring. She obviously thought the reason for him being quieter than usual was fear her parents would hear, but it wasn't. He was just worried about Blaine. He had been so…so out of it.

Still, he closed his eyes, trying to get into it. Especially after his wife had gone out and bought this sexy surprise for him. His hands wound around her torso, slipping up her soft back to the strap of her bra. They kissed hotly, the young man trying to take it off, unclasping the first hook, but struggling. It didn't take much longer for his wife to realize something was upsetting her husband.

"Wes, what's wrong?" she asked with worry in her eyes, stretching out and cupping his face. He leaned into the touch of her hand as her thumb stroked his cheek and closed his eyes.

"Nothing really, baby," he promised, tilting his face and kissing her palm, but Edith knew better.

"Please, talk to me," she whispered, nuzzling his neck and kissing his jaw in hopes he would open up to her.

"It's silly," he mumbled, and the beautiful woman gazed to him, encouraging him to tell her. He sighed gently. "I'm…actually, I'm really worried about Blaine," he admitted, the young woman gazing down to him, stroking his lengthening hair.

"He didn't seem to be himself," she whispered, and Wes nodded. Wes was a really sweet person. If he had reason to, he worried about his friends a lot. He just had a really tender heart. It was one of the reasons she loved him.

"Maybe I'm just being silly," Wes said, stretching out and taking her hand in his, entwining their fingers.

"Call him?" the woman recommended, gazing to her husband. He looked to her and smiled gently, nodding before leaning forward, his lips touching hers in a loving embrace, the two of them clinging together for a number of seconds.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, looking to his cell on the bedside table. He loved how her arms wrapped around his body, holding him close while he stretched out and picked up his cell phone, dialing Blaine's number.

…

Blaine was sitting on his couch, chuckling as he rested his head in his hands.

"How did you convince me to put these on?" he asked as Kurt brushed tears away, his vision blurry.

"Oh my God," Kurt gasped, and looked to the half Irish male beside him. "Aww, you look cute." Blaine didn't even know how this video came into Kurt's hands. It was an old video from almost ten years ago.

"I needed the money; I wanted a Play Station," He defended and Kurt rewound the thirty second advertisement. He couldn't believe this was Blaine, he remembered this ad from some years ago. It was hilarious.

It started with Blaine as a teenager, face covered in spots, pouting against a white background, and then a voiceover boomed out.

'**Tired of looking like this? Tired of other guys getting the girl?**

Two girls appeared beside the pimple infested Blaine, giggling. Kurt laughed as well as a bottle of facial wash appeared in the teenagers hands. The next scene showed Blaine washing his face with the cream and the following part showed a clear skinned Blaine being mauled by the two girls. They were stroking his hair, kissing his cheeks, and Kurt could hardly hear the voiceover pass his laughter.

'**Girls and clear skin is just a dewdrop away,'** The voice said as Blaine held up the bottle of Dewdrop skin cleanser. Kurt doubled over in his chair, diving for the video recorder to rewind it again. Blaine moaned, pleading with him not to watch it, and the brunette giggled.

"No way! You shouldn't have recorded it if you didn't want anyone to see it," he claimed, pressing play. Blaine dove to try turn it off. The alcohol had really loosened the two of them up and they were laughing loudly, pushing one another as they fought for control of the video. Blaine was winning when suddenly his cell rang, and Kurt used that second when he was getting it to turn it on.

"Nooo!" Blaine dramatically called and laughed as he pressed the answer button. "Anderson here," he said with a laugh as he pressed his hand to Kurt's forehead, pushing him away. On the other end, Wes was really surprised to hear him so happy.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Oh, nothing much," Blaine said with a grin as he managed to press the eject button much to his guest's dismay. Kurt pouted, telling the other man he was a "meanie" as the firefighter held the tape to his chest. "What about you?" je asked his friend on the cell as Kurt claimed he would watch the tape again at some point.

"Nothing much here either," Wes replied, feeling foolish for having been so worried about him. "Erm, look you seem busy, I should let you go," Blaine was chuckling as Kurt tried a surprise attack to get the tape, but failed.

"Okay man, I'll see you tomorrow," he said, not even letting Wes say goodbye before he hung up, clinging to the tape as Kurt pleaded for it.

"No, I'm taking this to bed with me," he said, sticking out his tongue and standing. Kurt shook his head and watched as Blaine left the room with the tape firm in his grasp, he chuckled.

"Goodnight," Kurt said and Blaine waved to him. The brunette stood with a stretch; glad he accepted that one, okay two, alright three glasses of wine. He felt better, looser and he stood up, finally getting around to clearing up, not noticing the message on his cell from Rachel.


End file.
